Opening Night
by LadyGranuaille
Summary: *EDIT* Not-so-short Short story of how the Joker made Harley Quinn into Harlequin. Full of dark angst and a disturbing romance duh . Doesn't necessarily follow the comic books, more so the new movies. Please review if you want more!
1. Chapter 1

Her name was Harley Quinn

Her name was Harley Quinn. Peter Quinn, her father, had always wanted to buy a motorcycle, but would have never had the balls to ride one. So, he named his one and only baby girl after the best brand of bikes in existence. She had a good childhood. She attended regular public schools, experiencing the same pre-adolescent torture as every other juvenile of Gotham. Both of her parents encouraged her to participate in gymnastics; at one point, she was on track for being an Olympic hopeful. But, there were some days, days she'd block out, when her life wasn't so normal. Days when she'd come home to find her mother bruised and softly whimpering in a dark corner of the house. But the summer between middle school and high school, her whole life changed for the worse.

When she was 14, Harley's mother died of breast cancer. The years after were hard, but she was able to survive by using art and drama as emotional outlets. Unfortunately, the initial shock had been enough for her to give up on being a gymnast. Without having her mother at the meets and to pick her up from practice, she lost the drive to compete. But art and drama were there still. She'd always needed to express herself; ever since the first time Peter had raped and beaten her mother in front of her. That was when Harley stopped calling her father 'dad' and instead referred to him as simply 'Peter'. After Mrs. Quinn's passing, Peter turned to his daughter for pleasure. He wouldn't beat her like he had his wife-the school administrators would notice bruising on Harley more easily than on her stay-at-home mother. But he would threaten her, until she'd submis. Then Peter Quinn would have his way with his daughter. Harley never told anyone-who would understand?

The years passed by, and her artwork and acting only improved with each torture session that her father mercilessly provided. After high school, she was accepted to the Gotham University of Fine Arts. Freshmen year, she met Redgie, another theatre major. It was because of him that Harley turned away from acting and discovered the wonderful world of costume and set design. They started dating at the beginning of sophomore year. Peter didn't approve, of course, but no matter. Harley was out of her father's house-forever. Come summer break, she and Redgie were going to start renting an apartment together. That thought was enough to make her pick up gymnastics again. She'd been out of practice for too long to ever compete again, but she could enjoy the sport anyways. And, of course, building the muscle helped her improve her self esteem.

It was later November, and Harley had been chosen to be the head costume designer for the coming spring's big show, _Macbeth_. She had all of winter break to work on contracting out most of the costumes, but for Lady Macbeth she wanted to start from scratch. So, she and Redgie headed to the fabric store and he helped her pick out satins, chiffons and lace. Harley had never made an entire gown by herself; made alterations, stitched parts of different costumes together, but never been responsible for making one from raw fabric. But she was up to the challenge, and had plenty of time to work on it.

While everyone else was Christmas shopping and ice skating, Harley locked herself away in her dorm room over winter break. She was actually used to not being a part of all the holiday cheer, given her Jewish background. But she'd lost her faith in God many years before when he'd failed to save her. Sometimes she missed the candelabra with its blue and white candles, but she knew it was just nostalgia.

Harley poured her heart and soul into designing and making the dress, so that, by the time she was finished, she wanted nothing more than to be Lady Macbeth. But, alas, the role for the leading lady had already been chosen-Alison Bates. She was a perfect, thin, blonde beauty with pages of acting experience. Originally, Harley's first choice had been costume design. But now, the thought of someone else wearing her masterpiece was terrifying. To make matters worse, Peter was coming to visit for the opening night of the show. Her father had never bothered to make an appearance to any of her plays before, even when was Gwendolyn in _The Importance of Being Earnest_ during senior year of high school. Why would he come now, when she was finally so close to breaking free of him forever? He knew; somehow he knew. She knew that Redgie wouldn't have told anyone, and of course she hadn't, but somehow her father knew she planned on moving out and away for good. He was going to try and stop her, but she couldn't let that happen.

It was still three weeks before opening night. But that didn't decrease her stress. Rehearsals were held for hours every night, and she had to be there in case someone had a costume issue. The whole thing was ridiculous, since they'd done fittings months before and the first dress rehearsal wasn't until next week, but still, she had to be there. But it wasn't all bad-Redgie was there too, working lights and props. They'd text each other, criticizing this or that actor's skill at portraying their character.

Except for tonight. Redgie wasn't replying to her messages. She assumed his phone was dead or maybe he was busy explaining something to one of the assistant techs. But at the end of rehearsal, she saw him flirting with Alison. The lead. Theatre promiscuity was normal, but she'd specifically explained to her boyfriend when they'd started dating that she'd not tolerate any of that kind of behavior from him. He'd agreed that was fair, and ever since everything had been fine. But she could see the both of them, up on the stage, laughing, smiling. She sat in the dark of the house, wondering if they knew she was there. Suddenly, Alison leaned in closer to Redgie and ran her fingers across his chest. In response, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissed it, and then the unbelievable happened. Harley felt tears well up and rage build in her stomach as she watched her boyfriend kiss Alison, the girl who would wear Harley's masterpiece gown. She couldn't watch this any more-they'd moved to a chair on the set, Alison straddling Redgie's lap. But, they'd notice if she got up and left. The seating of the house was pitch black, but the aisles were well lit. Harley closed her eyes and jammed her index fingers into her ears to block out the heartbreaking scene on stage. Suddenly, she knew how Othello must have felt in his suspicion of Desdemona. Except in this case, the betrayal was reality. Twenty minutes later, Harley heard the backstage exit open and then swing shut. She opened her eyes to find the theatre empty. She couldn't stop the tears that fell. She softly screamed her anger, beating the chair in front of her with her fists.

"Well, that was an interesting final act, wasn't it? I don't think there was sex scene in _Macbeth_, but you college kids do know innovation"

Harley hushed herself. Who else had been in the theatre? As if Redgie's infidelity wasn't bad enough, someone else had seen it and her emotional breakdown.

A man walked out on the stage. His hair was filthy and yellow, like he hadn't showered in days. But he was dressed very stylishly. He wore a royal purple three-piece over a forest green vest that looked like it was made of silk.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who-who are you?"

"That's your first question, Harlequin? Who am I? Not, 'what are you doing here', how'd you get into this security enforced college building' or maybe 'how do you know my name'?"

She stared at the strange man. He stood center stage, the very center, where the tragic hero would stand to give his soliloquies to the audience. Before, he'd been looking at the floor, his face cast in shadow. But now he looked up, straight at her, even though she sat in the dark, he knew where she was. She couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips as the main spot light illuminated his face. It was painted white with the mouth overemphasized in red, like a clown's. Even at this distance, she could see huge scars running from the edges of his lips up his cheeks. She'd always known the limelight could be cruel, but this was overkill. There was also blackening around his eyes, to cast them in shadow. It was a common stage makeup technique used on villains-to make them look evil and dangerous. But on him, it was-attractive. She felt a shiver run up her spine as he smiled.

"Although, were I in your position, I would want to know whether or not that strange man was dangerous"

At this point, he produced a pistol from an inner pocket of his jacket. Harley gripped the arm rests of her chair tightly.

"But don't worry, Harlequin, this gun is for you. But not to hurt you. For you to fulfill your destiny"

She narrowed her eyebrows at the strange man. He produced a small pair of gloves from another pocket, then set these with the gun on the stage. He then bowed to her, blew a kiss, and exited stage left.

Harley sat stunned for a few moments. But then reality kicked in, and she rushed up the aisle to the stage. The man was gone, as though he'd never been there. Except, of course, for the pistol and gloves. Harley walked cautiously towards them at first, then coyly. By the time her feet were in front of the gun, she felt bold enough to pick it up. She almost did-but then the gloves caught her eye. Why gloves? Then it dawned on her-to not leave fingerprints. She pulled them on; they fit perfectly over her small hands. They were silk, and had a black and red design reminiscent of cubism. She bent over and picked up the gun. She handled it firmly, feeling its weight in her palm. She held it aloft, aimed and pretended to let a shot off.

"Sorry Redgie, I just don't think things are gonna work out between us anymore"

She pantomimed another shot,

"Oops, my bad, Alison, but that dress just wasn't made for you"

And a third,

"I've been waiting twelve years to do that, Daddy"

She smiled, then burst out laughing. She then executed a perfect flip off the stage, into the house, and cart-wheeled up to her bag. After wrapping the gun in a sweater, and stowing it away in her backpack, she headed back to her dorm.

From the rafters, the Joker watched with a smile on his face. Finally, his loneliness would end. Two more weeks until the curtain lifted, which was plenty of time to make his lovely Harlequin's fantasy a reality.

She would be like soft putty in between his fingers, with all the potential of a masterpiece. All she needed was molding. He'd followed her over the last few months. She'd been one of the only students to stick around the Gotham Fine Arts campus, which meant she'd been a complication in his latest heist. But, fortunately, she'd spent almost every waking hour in her room. After his initial plans for the science building had been taken care of, he began following her. He'd even been able to get into her dorm building, and stand outside her doorway as she slaved away on that beautiful gown. That dress; he'd seen glimpses of the fabric through her window. It was flawless, a truly original masterpiece. She'd chosen scarlet chiffon for the base fabric, and put a layer of black lace over the bodice. She'd used the same lace for the trim of the skirt. When she'd finally completed it, he'd seen her don the gown, as though it were for herself. In truth, it was for her, or would be. He couldn't stand the idea of anyone wearing it any more than Harley could.

When the other students returned to the campus, he continued to follow her. He'd pretend to read the paper outside of her art class, and then he'd impersonate an aspiring actor, sipping coffee, in the drama building while she worked on set designs. All the while, learning about every facet of her life. Her boyfriend, Redgie, was a complete idiot. The jerk had been cheating on dear Harley for weeks before tonight. It was only because he, her destined lover, had told one of Redgie's friends that he'd heard Harley wasn't going to rehearsal that night that she'd even been able to discover Redgie with Alison. He'd setup the master plan to rescue his Harlequin from her drab life. She loved the Renaissance, white chocolate and rock music. Her life dream was to become the head costume designer for Broadway shows.

But learning about the cruelty of her father? That had been difficult. He'd searched through years of newspaper archives to find the reports on domestic violence against her family. Neighbors called in at least twice a month to report bruising on Mrs. Quinn, and then after her death, on little Harley. Apparently, both father and daughter contested that the marks were from gymnastics. But Joker saw through that-madness knows madness. Hearing her talk in her sleep helped put more pieces of the puzzle together. And tonight, after seeing her pretend to shoot some phantom of Peter Quinn, Joker understood the full truth. Strangely, he didn't despise Peter. After all, the man had helped make Harley the beautiful, twisted creature she was today. But, the man had to go. It was time for Joker to take over this work of art, to finish out the final sculpture that would be Harlequin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Harley woke up the next morning with the sun pouring in through her window. At first she couldn't remember why the shades were open-she always closed them because her dorm room window faced east. Then the memory of the night before hit her. First, she felt a pang in her heart and uneasiness in her stomach when she recalled Redgie's infidelity.

"Oh my god. You're awake. You are never awake this early, especially after those into-the-A.M.s rehearsals you theatre kids have"

Harley looked over at her roommate and best friend, Clarissa. The two had instantly bonded freshmen year in their Chemistry for Non-Majors class. They'd traded complaints on the ridiculousness of having to take a science class at a fine arts school, and later discovered they shared similar interests. Clarissa was an adept painter, putting Harley's doodles for costume design to shame. But Clarissa envied Harley's practical application of art. The two always joked about sharing a cardboard box under the Gotham bridge after they graduated.

"Oh yeah, the light. It does the waking thing on me"

Her friend nodded,

"I see. Well, I'm off to class. Yay for Baroque Art analysis. Did you wanna do lunch today, or are you too busy with the theatre?"

Clarissa did a dramatic pose, and announced 'theatre' like a true prima donna. Harley had to smile, the mockery of overacting reminded her of Alison's actual style of acting.

"Um, sure. We can do lunch. I feel like sushi today, though"

"Ooh, venturing into the Japanese cuisine? How exciting. Ok, I'll meet you back here at…noon thirty-ish?"

"Sounds delish"

"Ok, ciao!"

Clarissa grabbed her bag, and pranced out the door, leaving Harley alone. Normally, Harley took her lunches with Redgie but Clarissa always asked just in case. She was a wonderful friend. Even though both girls knew that Harley's lack of interest in dining with her boyfriend meant the relationship was on the rocks, Clarissa didn't press for information. She was happy just to spend more time with her friend.

The only downside to her chipper and amicable roommate was that she was a total slob. Harley couldn't understand how Clarissa found anything on her side of the room. There was a half drank can of Red Bull, dirty and clean clothes strewn all over the bed and desk, and some leftover pizza that a Biology major could write their senior thesis on. Harley just shook her head and started to lie down to go back to sleep for another hour. But then she remembered the rest of the night-the strange gifts from the even stranger man. She whipped the bed covers off and jumped out of the bed. Pulling open the zipper of her bag, she found the gun and gloves still wrapped up inside her sweater. She let out a sigh. It hadn't just been a dream. Harley felt a chill up her spine as an image of the man's face flashed through her memory. That handsome smile. She shook the feeling away and laughed,

"One day after seeing the man of my dreams betray me, and I'm all ready to turn to the darkside"

She shook her head and looked over at the clock. She still had another 45 minutes until when she normally got up, but there was no way she'd be able to sleep now. Despite the protests of her logic, the thoughts of that mysterious man had her heart rate going.

"Might as well make use of it"

She said, and starting to peel off her pajamas, and changed into her gym clothes.

"A nice run oughtta burn off that feeling"

A half hour later, Harley had decided to cool off from her run with some gymnastic routines. As she swung around the pommel, she thought she saw someone just out of the corner of her eye. But everytime she stopped to look, it was only her in the room. Switching to the uneven bars, she saw the stranger again. There was definitely someone else in the room-she could sense it now.

"Who's there?"

Nothing. But then, a piece of paper fell from the ceiling. She hopped down from the high bar and made her way to the scrap. But it wasn't a scrap-it was a playing card. She turned it over to its face. It was a joker.

"How…it's you, isn't it?'

Her mysterious stalker didn't answer, but she knew it was him. The man from the theatre.

"I dunno how or why you're following me. But I don't need your help. I've got everything under control in my life, alright?"

She felt like she was trying to reassure herself. And that it wasn't working. She threw up her arms in frustration, grabbed her bag and walked out. But before she left the room, she turned around in the door way and said,

"If you want to know me, really get to know me, you might have to stop the whole standing quietly in the dark bit"

Frustrated and oddly not concerned with her stalker, Harley returned to her dorm and showered. She was rather confident that he was watching, but that didn't seem to bother her. She dressed, pulled her dirty blonde hair into pigtails, and rushed out the door to class. Because she a Clarissa wanted to be closer to the city, their dorm was on the outside ring of the university campus. This meant she had to pass through the Gotham School of Science of Engineering's campus before she could reach the theatre buildings. On her way through, she saw that the science building was, well, partly blown up. Passing another student she mildly recognized from introduction to acting, she asked,

"What happened? Some chemistry student mix too many acids and bases?"

"Nah, Har, some badguy broke in and stole a shit load of nitrox. I guess in the process some of it exploded. Just a little static electricity will set that stuff off"

"Oh, well aren't we the chem buff?"

The guy just shrugged his shoulders and went back to his Starbuck's. But something caught Harley's eye; there were several playing cards strewn all over the lawn nearest to the science building. She started to walk over to pick one up, when a police officer suddenly appeared in her way.

"Sorry, ma'am, but this is a crime scene. These are evidence"

"My mistake, thought it was just trash that could be picked up. Ya know, save the planet"

Harley gave a little pump of her fist to try and prove her enthusiasm for anti-littering, but the cop seemed unconvinced, so she moved along. But she'd seen enough. Each of the cards bore the same image-the Joker. Maybe she could use her mysterious stalker's help after all. He seemed to have quite a few tricks up his sleeve that she would love to make use of.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time twelve thirty rolled around, Harley could barely hear the professor lecturing on the history of modern theatre. She was so distracted that the last thing she'd written down in her notes was something about Anti-Nazi theatre during World War II. But Professor Cole had finished lecturing on the impact of the Cold War on theatre. Which meant she was missing some decades. She'd spent the entire hour and a half looking up anything that could help her figure out who her mystery man was. She'd found some police reports on a man that left Joker playing cards at his crime scenes. Apparently, he'd had some run-ins with Gotham's one and only caped crusader. The media had decided to call him the Joker; fitting. Harley felt something akin to arousal at the idea that her stalker was a known criminal. But not just any criminal, one of the most dangerous not behind bars criminals. She was brought out of her fantasizing by the sound of Professor Cole's booming voice,

"Ok, so everyone who is participating in _Macbeth_, which hint is all of you, there is no rehearsal tonight"

Harley heard several students, including Alison, let out overdramatic protests.

"Hey, I'm all about the show-must-go-on, but it looks like there was a serious security breach last night, and Gotham's finest need to investigate it"

Without thinking, Harley asked,

"Do they think it was the same person that got into the science building?"

Without missing a beat, Professor Cole turned to her and said,

"Why yes, Gumshoe, I think you've got something. Maybe you should try out for Sherlock Holmes, I hear they're holding auditions on Duh Street."

Crestfallen, but intrigued by her stalker's involvement in so many mysteries, Harley started to make her way to the dining hall. She nearly dropped her books when she felt her back pocket vibrate. Shifting her load to one arm, she reached into her Levi's and grabbed her phone.

It was Clarissa, texting her "Where u "

"Oh, crap, I almost forgot!"

Harley made an about-face and began to furiously text back to her friend, "Sry. PCole felt chatty 2day"

Two minutes later, as Harley crossed in front of the investigator-surrounded science building she received another text from Clarissa,

"itz coo:)"

Harley smiled to herself, and then looked up just in time to see the one and only Bruce Wayne. What was he doing here? You'd think Gotham's wealthiest man would have better things to do then check out crime scenes. But then again, the science building had been built almost entirely with Wayne donations. She tilted her head in appreciation; for an older, snobby rich guy, he was damn fine-looking. Her eyes kept on him as she walked past, so that she didn't see Redgie and walked right into him.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, just a little distracted by today's menu of dishy-"

She stopped short as she saw the face of the person she was talking to.

"Oh. It's you"

"Hey, sugar, how you been? I heard you couldn't make it to rehearsal last night, hope you're alright"

She couldn't say anything. That he could just continue to pretend as though he loved her left her speechless. Then again, he was undeniably the college's number one male actor, even though his emphasis was technical theatre. How long had he been cheating on her? She would have never known.

But why did he think she hadn't made it to rehearsal last night? How weird. That would explain why he felt so comfortable swapping bodily fluids with Alison in plain view. She decided to play with him a little. She deserved a little fun.

"Oh, yeah, I just wasn't feeling the whole drama thing last night"

"Oh. I was afraid maybe you were sick or something. What'd you do? Just stay in and study?"

Harley thought only for a second before she answered. That would be an easy lie-that the diligent Harley Quinn had spent six hours studying. But no. What would be the fun in that?

"Oh, no, I met this really cool guy at the Bistro. We started talking about…theatre and stage craft. Turns out he's a magician, which is kinda hot right now, don't ya think?"

He started to look uncomfortable now. Something that made Harley fight even harder to keep the smile from blooming across her lips. Redgie was upset that she might be interested in another guy, when just last night she'd saw him with another girl. It was so beautifully ironic.

"Um, ok, is there something you wanna tell me?"

Harley thought about it. She could continue dating Redgie, knowing he was cheating on her, until she finally couldn't take it anymore. Or, she could humiliate him and dump him. She found the second option much more appealing.

"Yes, actually. Redgie, you and I, were just not going in the same directions with our lives"

"What do you mean? We're both tech theatre majors, we were gonna move in together this summer. Maybe someday start a family"

He reached out and took her hand in his. She suddenly found his touch revolting and shook his hand away.

"That was before last night"

She said the last two words with emphasis, part of her hoping he would catch on to what she meant. But alas, Redgie may be devious, but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I've had a change of direction. I'd rather go and give the stage another chance. I used to love acting, you steered me away from that"

"Oh, and I suppose this magician guy helped you figure this out?"

She smiled,

"He helped me figure out many things last night"

She paused dramatically, letting the subtle undertones of what she'd said sink in.

"You little bit-"

"Goodbye, Redgie. Oh, and there's no rehearsal tonight. Apparently the Joker got into the theatre and the police are all over it"

"The who?"

"The Joker. Next big-bad for Batman to battle, don't you watch the news?"

With that, she sashayed her way back to her dorm. She looked forward to telling Clarissa all about her big breakup with Redgie. But more so, she wanted to see the Joker again. She was convinced her mystery man was the criminal. And it didn't bother her at all to know that her life might be in danger because of his apparent obsession with her. If anything, the danger turned her on. She'd never had anything like this happen to her before. Part of her knew that letting the mad man pursue her was a bad idea, a really bad idea. But the rest of her craved to step over the edge-and into the darkness that had been hounding her all her life.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next week, Harley lived her life as though she were constantly flirting with the Joker. When she was alone in her room, she'd sit as primly as possible, and flip her hair every so often, knowing he was watching. When she was walking between classes, she made sure she walked with her head held high, and would peer at shadows beside buildings, hoping she might catch his eye. But alas, he remained aloof.

The night of the first dress rehearsal for the show had come out of seemingly nowhere. That morning, on her way back from class, Harley caught sight of Alison and Redgie. She appeared to be using him, grabbing his coffee to take a sip, then turning to flirt with the Rugby team. Better yet, Alison looked like she'd been putting on a little weight. Harley smiled to herself. Karma is a beautiful thing. A sudden panic gripped her as she realized that Alison would be wearing her masterpiece gown tonight. As much as she wanted to keep that from happening, Harley knew she had to bide her time. Meanwhile, she would have to stop by the fabric store to pick up some more of the scarlet chiffon. Alison was not going to fit into the dress unless Harley let the fabric out at least two, maybe three, inches at the waist.

Harley pulled her phone out of her jeans, and texted Clarissa to let her know she'd have to skip dinner with the gang tonight. Her friend texted back a sad face with an "ok". She felt a little guilty about skipping a meal, but there wasn't time between the end of her last class and tonight's rehearsal to buy more fabric and eat. So, her responsibilities yet again came before her health.

Usually, Harley hailed a cab to go anywhere downtown alone after six, but she felt safe knowing the Joker was surely following her. So, instead she made her way to the bus stop. When she got there, she carefully inspected the bench for any gum that might be stuck to it, than sat down to wait. She started to get nervous after five minutes. The street was empty, except for a stray dog and the sports section of yesterday's Gotham Globe. Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, a young man was standing next to her. Harley let out a sharp gasp, then shamed herself for acting like such a child. The man looked maybe two or three years older than herself, and was dressed sharply with a thick scarf covering his mouth.

"Sorry, I'm a little jittery tonight"

"A beautiful girl waiting all alone for the bus? I'd be pretty jittery if I were you, too"

Harley thought she could see the corners of his smile peek out from behind the scarf, but that wasn't really anatomically possible. She smiled back nonetheless. He was handsome, with tan skin and blond hair in tight curls that cascaded to his shoulders. The more Harley examined him, the more familiar he looked to her.

"Um, this is gonna sound weird, but uh…do I know you?"

"Not unless you hang out at a lot of coffee shops after ten"

Harley looked up at him, cocking her head in confusion.

"I'm a struggling stage performer-I try to do shows at coffee shops. College students are much more forgiving audiences than most. Name's Jack, by the way"

He reached out a gloved hand, and she shook it. She realized his gloves and scarf were the same light green, the same green in the tiny pin stripes of his tailored suit.

"My name's Harley. And what a coincidence that you're in theatre. I'm just on my way to get some costume supplies. I'm a designer at the fine arts school"

"I know. I've seen your pieces. Harley Quinn, right?"

She nodded. That was the second mysterious man in a month that knew her name without ever having met her.

"They're beautiful, paling in comparison to you, but lovely anyways"

"Thank-you…I didn't know anyone outside of the drama department, much less the school, knew I existed"

She paused for a moment, flattered. But there was something else. She kept feeling like something wasn't right.

"So, Jack, what kind of stage performance do you do? Musical acts, Shakespearian interpretations…"

"Musical? Heaven forbid I think the police would lock me away if I tried to sing or play an instrument. No, I'm actually a magician"

The Joker couldn't believe how well things were going. For the last few weeks, he'd been able to complete his set-up for breaking into the Wayne Center for Research in Physics and Industry _and_ follow his beautiful Harley. He knew that she'd felt his presence over the last fortnight; before he'd sensed she suspected something, but ever since the night in the theatre, things had changed for the better.

And now, he was talking to her. She didn't know it was him. His disguise was too well done and she wasn't expecting him to 'come out of the dark'. But as Jack, he could more efficiently gain her trust. It would be much easier to manipulate her from the position of his alter ego.

"Would you mind terribly if I accompanied you for your costume shopping? My show doesn't start tonight for another two hours, and its terribly lonely just sitting there sipping cheap coffee"

Harley thought for a moment. What if the Joker were watching? All the better, thought Harley, then if this guy turns out to be a total creeper, Mr. J will come and save me. Otherwise, it wouldn't hurt to have a normal companion for at least a little while.

"Of course! I get really easily wigged riding alone on the bus during the day, at night, it's a miracle I don't hyperventilate at every stop"

She thought she saw his smile again, but the green scarf he wore came up to his eyes, covering his nose. She suddenly realized that his eyes were green too.

"Ah, our chariot has arrived, after you milady"

He executed a courtly bow as the bus doors slammed open. Harley returned his bow with a curtsy and daintily entered their 'chariot'. He followed her and stood next to her seat. She wondered why he remained standing, even though there was an open seat next to her,

"Afraid of catching bus sickness by sitting down?"

"No, I just prefer to stand. I like to be ready"

"Ready for what?"

"Oh, you never know what might happen in the streets of Gotham after dark"


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to 'Settin the Woods on Fire'. I decided to include this song in my story based on the fact that it was once used as a duet between Joker and Harlequin in one of the animated episodes of the Batman cartoon. Also, I'm trying to create a quality story as quickly as possible so please be patient, my avid readers. And thanks for all the reviews. Enjoy!_

His remark left her pondering the remainder of the bus ride. It was fair to be cautious, but his version of caution left her curious as to what exactly did happen in Gotham after dark.

In less than half an hour, they'd reached the stop at the corner of Hawthorne and Grames. Harley felt particularly flattered when Jack took her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked, but also a little nervous about what Mr. J would think.

When they reached the fabric store, Harley felt conflicted. She could either take her time picking out the fabrics she needed to spend more time with Jack, or, she could go straight for the scarlet chiffon and hurry herself back to campus. She really did need to be back as soon as possible so she could have time to work on the dress before rehearsal. As though he read her mind, Jack prompted,

"How much shopping did you intend to do tonight?"

"Um, well, I really should get just the one piece I need, and then get back. Rehearsal starts in an hour and a half"

"I see. Well, guess that doesn't give you any time to come to my magic show, then, does it?"

Harley felt the world shift in perspectives. Yes, she could indeed be the studious young costume designer and have each and every piece for tonight's rehearsal perfect. Or, she could look out for number one and have fun. Tilting her head, she responded,

"Actually, I'd love to see your show. I've been working too hard; a little respite would be good for me"

"Excellent"

Harley thought she saw his smile yet again peek up from behind the scarf, but it was just impossible. That would mean the edges of his mouth came up nearly to his eyes. Unless they were scars she was seeing. Scars like the ones Mr. J had. Harley tried to hide her realization, but she knew that her cheeks were surely blushing and her eyes had widened. She also fought the overpowering urge to stare at her companion. She intertwined her arm more with his, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Joker couldn't believe how easy it was to persuade her to change her normal behavior. She was absolutely teetering on the edge of mental instability. A month ago, this girl would have never missed a night of homework, much less the first dress rehearsal for the show she was head costume designer for. And now she was close enough to him that he could feel her breathing. He timidly inhaled her scent; it was strongly floral, maybe lavender and sweet pea blossoms.

They made their way to the correct stall for the fabric she needed, selected the scarlet shade, had two yards cut and then she paid for the cloth at the register. As they walked out the store, Harley felt Jack pull her in the opposite direction of the bus.

"I think I've got a better plan"

She stood confused as he called someone on his phone and said,

"Bring the car around to the corner of Hawthorne and Grames. And be quick about it"

Less than a minute later, a jet black, classic Chevy Camaro was booming down the street towards them. It came to a screeching halt in front of them. Harley felt her rib cage rattle from the sub woofer pounding out death metal. A strangely dressed man stepped out, and then just walked away. Joker walked Harley around to the passenger seat and opened the door for her.

Harley was still in a daze, who was the man that had driven the car? If he and Jack were friends, wouldn't they have greeted one another? But then again, this wasn't actually Jack the coffee joint magician. This was the Joker, dangerous and psychopathic criminal. These are the thoughts that ran through her head as she buckled herself into the seat of the Camaro and Joker got into the driver's seat. He changed the radio station-for that much Harley could be thankful. The death metal was just not her cup of tea. She tried to be patient and calm as he surfed through the available channels,

"Ah, now that's more like it"

As uncultured as she was, even Harley knew what song he finally set the radio station to-Hank Williams Jr.'s 'Settin' the Woods on Fire'.

"I hadn't really placed you as the country type"

"Ah, well, that should show you for trying to generalize about people. But to be fair, I don't really like country music. I just really love this song"

Harley listened to the lyrics, and began to understand why the song might be appealing to him,

_Comb your hair and paint and powder you act proud and I'll act prouder_

_You sing loud and I'll sing louder tonight we're settin' the woods on fire_

_You're my gal and I'm your feller dress up in your frock of yeller_

_I'll look swell but you'll look sweller settin' the woods on fire_

_We'll take in all the honky tonks tonight we're having fun_

_We'll show the folks a brand new dance that never has been done_

_I don't care who thinks we're silly you'll be daffy I'll be dillly_

_We'll order up two bowls of chili settin' the woods on fire_

_I'll gas up my hot rod stoker we'll get hotter than a poker_

_You'll be broke but I'll be broker tonight we're settin' the woods on fire_

_We'll sit close to one another up our street and down the other_

_Tonight we'll have ball oh brother settin' the woods on fire_

_We'll put aside a little time to fix a flat or two_

_My trey and tubes are doin' fine but the air is showin' through_

_You clap hands and I'll start howlin' we'll do all the law's allowin'_

_Tomorrow I'll be right back plowin' settin' the woods on fire_

During the short song, they'd driven many miles from the Gotham university campus. Harley didn't even recognize the district they were driving through. Suddenly, half way through one of Willie Nelson's better known ballads, they came to a stop. Joker pulled the keys out of the ignition, stepped out of his side of the car, and opened Harley's door.

"Where are we?"

"We're about five minutes from show time, Har"


	7. Chapter 7

The remainder of the evening was still a blur by the next morning. The Joker had fitted Mardi Gras style masks over both their faces. Hers had been the type that only covered her eyes, whereas his covered his entire face, concealing the scars that she knew were there. He'd also pulled a pair of gloves over her hands.

Five minutes later, they were not in a coffee shop but a jewelry store. 'Jack' had kept to his word, however, and performed quite the magic show.

Harley felt her stomach drop anew at the things he'd done. With a flick of his wrist and a swoosh of his sleeve, he'd picked the store clean of its diamonds, sapphires and rubies. The entire process had left the shop owner unconscious- or at least that's what Harley hoped. But underneath the surface of her quickly slipping sanity, Harley knew the truth; Joker had killed the man. And Harley had let it happen, if not helped. But somehow, she didn't really feel guilty. It wasn't as though their actions were somehow justified, it just didn't seem wrong. Especially while they were racing down the streets of Gotham, covered in millions of dollars worth of jewelry with country music blaring out of the Camaro's speaker system.

As she lay awake in her bed the next morning, Harley giggled as she remembered the police chase they'd been in.

The whole time, the fear of what would happen if they'd been caught hadn't really bothered her. It seemed impossible that her new…friend was capable of capture by the police. Especially since she knew he was dubious enough to garner the attention of the one and only Batman. Harley had mixed feelings on the masked vigilante. Yeah, he'd done a lot of good, but Gotham always seemed to slip back to worse than it had been before Batman.

She looked over at the clock beside her bed. Clarissa had already gone out, since her class had started an hour ago. As Harley stretched, she realized that she must have gotten a little more exercise than she'd realized-her entire body felt heavy from soreness. But then she stood up-and at least fifty pounds of jewelry slid off her chest, neck, wrists and waist.

"Ohhhh my god"

She basked in the glow of wealth for a moment before realizing reality. Quickly, she hid all the necklaces, bracelets, earrings and other paraphernalia in the storage boxes under her bed. Then she found the bag from the fabric store. Wrapped up with the receipt was a playing card. Harley smiled as she turned it over to see the now familiar face of the Joker. Written in a crude hand was the phrase,

"_Hope it was good for you, too_"

It left Harley pondering for the rest of the morning. How had she finally gotten home? She had no recollection of going into her dorm room, or even being driven back towards campus. The thoughts so consumed her brain power that she had to restart the stitching on the alterations for the gown four times. She also had no idea how she was going to explain to the director why she hadn't been at last night's dress rehearsal. Maybe he would accept the good old family emergency story? My grandmother was in the hospital. Maybe not.

She was able to finish the alterations ten minutes before her first class, which left Harley just enough time to swing by the commons and grab some oatmeal to eat in class. She forced herself to pay attention, and take more than enough notes in history of theatre. Set design was a little more difficult, given everyone wanted to know why she'd missed rehearsal the night before,

"My dad called not twenty minutes before eight, and told me his mom was in the hospital. I guess she fell or something. But they think she's gonna be ok"

A couple of students offered their condolence and wishes of 'grandma' getting well soon. Harley accepted these, displaying no sentiment of guilt for telling falsities. Luckily, that introduction to acting class from high school had finally paid off.

Rehearsal that night was torture. Alison donned the gown, with some difficulty, and kept complaining about the roughness of the fabric. Harley wanted to remind her that chiffon was not in any form rough, but the prima donna wouldn't have listened anyways. Fortunately, other than that, only the Banquo costume had a malfunction with the hose,

"You'll have to be a little more careful with your saber, Devon. Nylon tears really easy"

"Alright, alright, Har. I get it. Keep the blade away from the knave. Hey, so I heard you and Redgie broke up, does that mean you're available?"

Harley suddenly looked up shocked and caught off guard. Devon was interested in her? He was attractive and charming-but they had nothing in common. No less in common than she and Redgie had had in common, answered another voice in her head. But she wasn't really available. While the conventional definition of a date did not encompass her actions from the night before, she felt a strong attraction to her secret companion all the same.

"Sorry, Devon, but not really. But I'm really, really flattered"

"That's cool. Not a big surprise that someone beat me to the punch. There were quite a few of us waiting for you to catch wise of Redgie and dump his ass. Do you mind me asking who got to ya first?"

"Um, you wouldn't know him. He doesn't go here"

"Oh, well, home team gets zero points. Well, I hope he's a cool dude. If not, you know my number"

He winked at her before going into the men's dressing room. Harley felt her face get warmer as the blood flooded from blushing. Why had she wasted so much time with Redgie? And had everyone but her known he was cheating?

"HAAAARLEEEEYY QUINN!"

Harley nearly jumped out of her skin as Alison screamed.

"Oh great. This oughta be fun"

Harley walked quickly into the women's dressing room to find Alison. The blond beauty stood in the center of the room, tapping her foot.

"Yes, Alison?"

"Where have you been? You know I can't take this monstrosity off by myself. I could break a nail. And besides, you made it so tight, I can't even turn around"

"Sorry, I was helping Devon with his hose"

"Oh, I bet you were"

Harley ignored the smug tone of Alison's voice, and proceeded with unzipping the gown. She wanted to take her time, being careful with her masterpiece, but she also wanted to spend as little time as possible with Alison Bates.

"Alright, all unzipped. Want me to help you step out of it"

"No, thank-you, I think I can manage _that_ much on my own"

Harley grimaced as Alison stepped on the fabric instead of daintily stepping clear of it.

"You said it was too tight-do you need me to let the fabric out some?"

For once, Harley saw Alison look nervous. She licked her lips and furrowed her brows in concentration.

"When's the last night of the show again?"

Harley didn't really get the significance of that, but she answered all the same. She had every show date memorized for the rest of the season.

"The final showing of Macbeth is March 27th, 5 weeks from yesterday"

"Five weeks…I shouldn't get too much bigger…Um, no, for now I guess this is good"

"Alright, just lemme know when you wanna be able to breathe"

"Yeah. Um, Harley? Could you not tell anybody about this?"

"Um, sure. Ok, no problemo"

"Thanks. Otherwise, I'd have to make your life incredibly miserable"

Harley stood there for a couple seconds, dumbfounded, before realization dawned on her. But by then, Alison had already walked out. Alison Bates-Gotham's School for Fine Arts number one actress was totally prego! This would ruin her career.

"How smashing"

Harley hung the gown up carefully, as though it were the Mona Lisa. Smoothing out the folds in the skirts, she thought again of the night before. Jack was mysterious and charming, whereas his alter ego the Joker was dangerous…and still somehow charming. Harley Quinn indeed had it bad, really bad, for Gotham's most dangerous criminal at large. And if she had her way, which was something she planned on growing accustomed too, he's have it bad for her too.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank-you sooo much for the reviews! I hope I'm able to keep my loyal readers satisfied. But, this story is almost finished, so if there's anything from the comics or cartoon you'd like to see included, lemme know! I'll try to include it in this fic, or maybe write others in the future. Enjoy!_

The next week passed by flawlessly. 'Jack' found ways of running into Harley on campus during the day, while the Joker haunted her dreams at night. The day before opening night, rehearsal ran into the A.M. hours, as Clarissa had predicted. As usual, it seemed everything was going perfectly. Which was bad news. Since everything during the rehearsal of the day before opening night was going off without a hitch, it meant opening night itself would be a disaster. All well, thought Harley, what would a _Macbeth_ play be without at least one mishap.

But despite the perfection evident in every run though of every line, the director wanted to go through everything one last time.

"Actors and techs, let's run everything through from the beginning. I need some more anguish from Lady Macbeth before her DEATH scene, thanks. The rest of you can call it a night"

Harley raised her hand timidly, expecting the worst for a response,

"Yes, Harley, that includes you. Go home. Please. If we have a wardrobe malfunction, they can wear paper bags. Shakes would love it-true minimalist theatre. Alright people, from the top"

Harley let out a sigh of relief. She couldn't have taken another five minutes of Alison's high pitched acting voice, or any more of the witches' rhymes. She feared the phrase "Fillet of a fenny snake/ In the caldron boil and bake/ Eye of newt, and toe of frog/ Wool of bat, and tongue of dog" would forever echo in her ears.

Harley even started reciting the remainder of all three parts under her breath as she walked across the campus to her dorm. Suddenly, her feet caught on something and she fell. Her hands had been jammed into her coat pockets, and she wasn't able to free them in time to catch herself. As such, she landed on her chest in a pile, like a worm dropped from the sky. Luckily, she narrowly escaped hitting her face on the pavement.

"Ow. What the hell was that?"

Harley looked back over her shoulder as she pushed herself up. She knew she'd have scratches across her pelvis and arms in the morning. She could also already feel the beginnings of a bruised rib.

Sitting placidly on the ground at her feet, with all the apparent innocence of a Christmas puppy, sat a medium sized purple box, finished off with green ribbon. Of course, to the Chanukah-raised Harley, there was nothing less innocent than a Christmas puppy.

She rolled herself over onto her backside as delicately as possible and scooted up to the box. There was a small tag tied to the ribbon, she read it out loud to herself,

"For Harlequin. From the Ringmaster, aka, _Joker_"

She recognized the handwriting from the note on the playing card she'd found with her receipt from the fabric store. She picked up the box, turning it over from end to end in her hands, and then shaking it. The contents weren't heavy or metallic. But then she heard a slight jingling. Harley shrugged her shoulders, and started to pull at one end of the ribbon. But then the more rational side of her brain kicked in. She decided that mysterious gifts from dangerous criminals are best opened in secure locations, as in, not the middle of campus at one o'clock in the morning.

Once back in her dorm room, Harley sat down on her bed and started opening the box. Clarissa rolled over in her bed to see what was going on.

"Oh good. I was afraid I was being sexiled. What's that?"

"A gift"

"From…?"

"Um, you remember that guy I told you about, Jack?"

"The sexy and mysterious magician? Of course. I've been waiting for you to tell me he's got a brother that's an aspiring painter"

"Well, he left this for me"

"Ok, that is definitely deserving of props for mysteriousness. What's the occasion?"

"I dunno",

Harley answered as she pulled the gift from its box. It was a classic, Italian style Harlequin costume, in red and black. The design across the chest and hips matched the gloves he'd left for her in the theatre weeks before. She stood up and held it up to her body, to see if it would fit. As the fabric fell to the floor, a note fell out.

"Ooh. Kinky. But…sorry, Har, I don't get it"

Harley pushed the fabric against her stomach, feeling its slickness. It seemed to have a bit of a gymnast's uniform stretch and strength to it. She set the costume down on her bed, and picked up the note. After unfolding it, she responded to her roommate,

"It's for a Masque-tonight! Oh no, I'm already an hour late!"

"Uh-oh. Emergency beautification beginning in three, two, one!"

As she said "one", Clarissa jumped out of her bed, and began to rifle through her makeup. Harley watched in horror as her friend managed to make her side of the room even messier. To avoid going into nervous shock, she continued reading the letter. It instructed her to bring the other 'gifts' as well. Harley hoped that didn't mean the gun. How would she ever get out of the room in the skintight costume with a gun, and Clarissa not noticing?

"Well, what are you just standing there for, put the sexy-suit on already!"

"Oh, right"

Harley realized then that she wouldn't be able to wear much underneath it-it was going to be skin tight. So, she stripped to her underwear and started to pull one of the legs on.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"You can't wear your Granny-panties with that catsuit! Put a thong on, geeze!"

"Oh. I guess you're right"

"Of course I am. And you being a costume designer and all. Tsk, tsk"

Harley nervously made her way to her underwear drawer. Ever since she'd broken up with Redgie, she'd been neglecting her lingerie collection. But tonight, the lace-fasting ended. She picked out a red thong, complete with sheer lace front and a bikini style across the hips. She daintily pulled off her 'Granny-panties" and pulled the little red wonder on.

"Hubba, hubba. I'll be lucky not to be sexiled tonight"

Clarissa let out a wolf-whistle and winked at her friend. Harley only blushed, and quickly pulled the Harlequin costume on over her bare bottom.

"Um, don't you have a bra that matches those bottoms, mademoiselle?"

Harley looked up at her friend in shock. She did in deed have a bra that matched the red thong, but it was strictly for lingerie purposes-she'd never actually used it as a bra. It pushed her breasts up all too enticingly, and made them look a good deal more rounded than she was used to.

"But, don't you think that's a little too much?"

Clarissa stood there, tapping her foot. On her bed, she had a wide selection of costume make up spread out, including white face paint.

"Is that Mime paint?"

"Yes, and I'll let you use it if you would stop being such a nun and sex it up already!"

"Ok, ok, fine"

Harley unhooked her regular cleavage-control bra and slipped on the red one. Turning to face her friend, she caught sight of herself in the room's mirror. Her reflection showed a small but perky little sex goddess. Cocking her head slightly, she turned to admire herself more.

"Alright, alright, showtime's over. Get your top on already"

Harley posed like a model, and then pulled the rest of the costume on. The whole thing was one piece, without any seams or zippers. She just had the stretch the fabric over her shoulders. The slit in the back seemed to disappear as she finally managed to squeeze in. Harley had to admire the craftsmanship on the piece. She'd worked in theatre costumes for years and never come across anything this impressive.

"Gggroooowl! Now get over here so I can Harlequin-ify you. Oh, I get it know! It's a play on words, with your name-Harley Quinn, get it?"

"Oh. How…interesting. I'd never realized that before."

"Shh, no talking. This is impossible to do with your mouth moving"

Harley sat patiently as her friend painted her face like a Japanese geisha.

"Can I see yet?"

"No"

Harley let out a 'humph'. She knew Clarissa wouldn't let her see till it was finished. She was the same way with her art, which often caused her grades to suffer when the prof couldn't see whether or not she was actually making progress with a work. But Harley wasn't concerned. The two had taken Stage Makeup together, for fun, and Clarissa had always done better than the majority of the class.

Finally, Clarissa was finished.

"Ok, done. Go look in the mirror and tell me if you like it"

Harley pranced over to the mirror. On the way, she heard a jingling. Looking down, she realized there were tiny little bells at her waist, wrists and ankles. She did a little dance to make them all chime, smiled to herself, then stood in front of the mirror.

This time, she saw a modernized Commedia dell'arte harlequin. Clarissa had done a fantastic job, as usual, with her makeup. Her face was chalk white, and her lips done in a dark, dark red that was almost black. Over her eyes, she'd put a heavy black makeup that from a distance almost looked like a small mask. She would indeed look the perfect counterpart to the Joker.

"It's absolutely perfect, 'Rissa"

"Thank-you, thank-you. Now, what about your hair…"

"Harlequins normally wore hoods with a really decorative hat, but I don't see anything like that"

"Well, we could do your hair in cute little pigtails…"

"Nah. I'll just where it down"

"Aight"

Harley tugged on the hair-band that held her ponytail in place and shook her head to make the strands fall evenly.

"Whaddaya think?"

"If looks could kill, honey, you'd knock 'em dead"

Harley smiled, and then panicked as she remembered her costume was still missing one piece-the gun. But fortune smiled one her.

"Well, I'm pooped. Make good choices tonight, sweetie. In other words, follow the John Wayne motto"

"Um…what's that?"

"Right 'em hard, and put 'em away wet"

Clarissa winked, and then laid back down on her bed. Within ten seconds, she was softly snoring. Harley shook her head. If there was one thing Clarissa had that Harley wanted, it was that uncanny ability to sleep any where, any time.

Recovering her senses, she stooped to her bed, and pulled out the storage container. She pulled on the gloves, once again admiring how well they fit, and then grabbed the gun. Luckily, the girls never locked their room, so she wouldn't need a key. The costume covered her feet, with a little bit of padding on the sole, so she didn't need shoes. But as Harley closed the door to her dorm building, she realized a fatal flaw in her plan; how was she to get to this Masque?


	9. Chapter 9

Harley panicked for a moment, turning back to look at her dorm. Part of her realized how ridiculous this was-receiving a mysterious gift from a dangerous sociopath that included an invite to a party she had no idea how to get to. She started to turn back towards the door, when she heard tires squealing behind her. Recognizing the purr of the Camarro, she suddenly felt her confidence return. She turned on her heels towards the car, with her legs still crossed and hands on her hips,

"There ya are, Puddin. I was starting to worry you might stand me up"

The Joker sat at the wheel, in all his glorious regalia. Leaving the engine running, he stepped out of the car and walked towards her. His figure held dominance and maybe a little bit of menace, but Harley stood there, smiling a little as the criminal approached her.

"I couldn't do that to my number one girl. Now come along, Harley, let's make this a night that all of Gotham will remember"

"Sounds like my kinda night, Mistah J"

Harley found herself adopting a Brooklyn accent. Part of her psyche recognized the lunacy of her current course of action-for that reason, it adopted an alternate Harley to fit this alternate reality. It was the same way she'd survived her father without anyone noticing the effects he'd had on her mental state. It wasn't quite a multiple personality case, but by the time Joker was done with her, she'd be a psychologist's dream project. And it wasn't just her voice-all of her mannerisms suddenly transformed, making her bolder, more sensual than she normally was. She didn't draw back when Joker slid an arm around waist. He smiled when he saw the gun in her hand,

"Glad to see you didn't forget anything. Safety first, I always say"

Harley just smiled back as he led her to the passenger side of the car. She felt all concern for repercussions and regret sliding off of her skin. When he jammed the manual into reverse, she didn't even buckle her seat belt.

After he put the Camarro back into drive, Joker found a station playing Johnny Cash hits, turned the speakers up, and then replaced his arm back on the head rest behind Harley. He caught her give another one of her wicked smiles. He'd been planning this 'party' for weeks, and everything was going to go exactly as planned. Even if that meant compromising his other plans for the evening.

About a half hour later, they were parked outside of a sketchy looking warehouse. Harley couldn't hear any music coming from the party inside, much less lights illuminating the festivities. She slowly started to realize how foolish it had been to think that the Joker, renowned psychopathic, dangerous criminal at large, would haunt regular parties. This was probably still going to be a festive event of some kind-just not the generic loud music and cheap booze on campus type she was accustomed to.

Suddenly, he was at her side of the car, holding the door open and a hand out to escort her. She took it, smiling coyly, and also a little confused. They walked towards the building, arm in arm, but just when she thought he was going to open the door, he pulled her aside and pushed her body up roughly against the wall.

A paralyzing panic gripped her as she saw the glimmer a small knife being held at her throat,

"Now, Harlequin, my love, you're going to play along, like a good little actress when we get in there, alright?"

He licked his lips ferociously; for the first time, she really noticed the gaping scars running up the sides of his cheeks. She hadn't really gotten a good look at him earlier-poor lighting. But now, this close to his face, they were undeniably terrifying.

He must have caught her staring at them,

"Ah, you like my scars do you? Would you like to hear how I got them? Or, maybe, you'd like a pretty little pair for yourself?"

He quickly moved the knife point up to her lips, pulling softly at the corners of her mouth with the dull side. But still, she could taste the salty, metallic flavor of her own blood as the knife ever so slightly cut into her skin. She felt tears well up in her eyes.

He saw the glistening in her eyes, and quickly his demeanor changed. He lowered the knife, replacing it in his pocket. But he didn't let off on the pressure of his body against hers, holding her tiny frame against the rough brick wall.

"Of course you'll behave, won't you, you're an obedient girl, right?"

Harley nodded, bringing a hand up to deftly wipe a tear from her eye. Fortunately, only a few tears had actually escaped, so her excellent makeup job remained for the most part intact-unlike her mouth. The bleeding felt like it had stopped. It made her realize just how sharp that knife must be, to make a tiny cut so easily healed.

He brought a hand up to that side of her mouth, gently rubbing his thumb across the cut. She looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze-what was it that he held behind those eyes? At the moment, they seemed to communicate real love, or at least a whole bunch of affection that Harley had never seen, even from Redgie. But how could he be so cruel to her one moment, than her own Romeo the next?

"It's just that tonight is very important, and I need you to not interfere"

She snuffed her nose, than swallowed to get up her courage to speak,

"Than why did you bring me?"

He smiled, it made her shiver. Her father had given the same expression the one time she'd asked him why he mistreated her.

"Because, Harlequin, we have to begin your training. This is a field trip, and I'm the teacher. And inside is the lesson. Are you ready to learn?"

Harley nodded again. He'd backed off from her body, allowing her feet to stand fully on the ground. He again held out a hand for her and a bashful expression on his face. She smiled back, and took his hand. She suddenly realized that the entire time she'd held the gun in her hand-it was loaded. All he'd had was the little knife. But then again, her arm had been pretty well pinned against the wall. She promised herself if he ever threatened her again, she'd threaten him right back with the gun. She'd spent the last half decade being controlled by men that didn't love her; she'd not suffer that any longer.

Once they got inside, she saw the interior was set up like a party. There was a DJ, playing '80s hits. A disco ball and strobe lights flashed across the floor. But the guests-they were like nothing Harley had ever seen. All were dressed like clowns, in oddly patterned mismatched clothes and wigs. Some wore masks, others had borderline demon-esque makeup on, reminiscent of the clown from "It". But they were also all men-she was the only female in the building. Or so she thought. As Joker escorted her through the crowd, the other guests parted in front of them until they stood in the center of the room. There, tied up, blindfolded and gagged sat Gotham's premier debutante- Barbra Gordon, the Commissioner's very own pretty little daughter. Harley had seen her a few times at the nicer mall in Gotham, but more often on the evening news. She was notorious for not only her impressive academic record, but also for her stunning beauty. When her dad wouldn't give an interview after a run-in with Batman or one of the crazy criminals, Barbra was always there with charm and wit to soothe the media. Even in the poor lighting, Harley envied the 17 year-old's perfect red, wavy hair and flawless skin.

But why was she here, tied up, in what was evidently a terrible amount of danger? Harley could see the tears that had fallen down the other girl's cheeks from behind the blindfold. Her boot cut jeans were torn and her blouse had some grime on it. She'd clearly put up some kind of a fight before succumbing to defeat.

Suddenly, Joker disengaged his arm from Harley's and walked over to the terrified adolescent. Harley felt a slight twinge of jealousy as he made a show of shaming his henchmen for mistreating her, then turning to Barbra and speaking softly into her ear to comfort her. But the teenager seemed to become only more distressed. Harley realized that Barbra must now know who her capturer was, no wonder the sound of Joker's voice only further frightened her. Looking somewhat disappointed that he couldn't charm the pretty little redhead, Joker stood up and turned towards Harley,

"Our first lesson tonight will be on biology. Here, we have setup a trap to catch a nocturnal predator. Using bait placed in its ideal hunting ground, we can expect to capture what we're after so that we can tag it, and track its behavior. Including where it sleeps during the day"

He looked around smugly, letting his gaze finally rest on Harley. Without unlocking his eyes from hers, he continued speaking,

"Now, can anyone tell me what we're hoping to catch tonight with our tempting little piece of bait?"

Several voices jeered from the crowd of other 'guests',

"Batman", "The Bat!"

"Very good. Now see, Harlequin, it isn't that difficult of a lesson. Are you ready for the test?"


	10. Chapter 10

Harley walked towards him, her little touch of jealousy making her bold. A dangerous and playful idea had popped into her head. Instead of going to stand by the man she was truly interested in, she stopped beside one of the henchmen. He was shorter than Joker, but also a little more muscular. He was one of those in a mask, but that didn't matter. Harley stepped even closer to him, walking her fingers up his impressive bicep. She watched him shiver slightly, hoping Joker noticed. Looking over at him, her hopes were confirmed.

"So, let me get this straight, Mistah J. The basic idea is that the Bats knows we have little miss sunshine, daughter of his favorite friend in high places, and he's gonna come here to save her pretty little tush. In amongst all the rough housing-"

Here, Harley suddenly gripped the man's neck and jerked it a little,

"We put a little tracking collar on the Bat"

As she said this, she gently traced her fingertips in a pantomime of a collar around the henchmen's neck. He swallowed nervously. Harley was enjoying this, perhaps too much. She'd never had this kind of power.

Joker then returned the play, taking a piece of Barbra's hair into his hand and rubbing the strands across his fingertips,

"Exactly, Har. Now, you have two jobs in all of this. First, don't get caught up in all the 'rough-housing'"

He gripped the red strands tighter, pulling poor Barbra's head towards him a little. She let out a startled cry, and then quickly silenced herself. Harley had to give her props-she was holding up pretty well. She became curious as to just how much the high schooler could take.

"Your other job is to make sure Miss Gordon remains unharmed. I really don't care whether or not the Bat rescues her, just not until after we've got him tagged. Understand?"

"Just one thing-why can't we harm one little hair on Red's head?"

"It's not her time yet. And if it happens to her, it happens to you, got it Har?"

Harley nodded. She smiled voluptuously, and then placed herself directly in front of the man. She'd have to wait till later to test Barbie's stamina, but for now, teasing Joker sounded like an awful lot of fun, too. She brought the man's arms to wrap around her waist and pushed her backside up against him. She could feel his heart racing. What was he so nervous about?

"So I've got to defend Red, all by my little old self? No big, strong man to protect me?"

She pouted softly. She started to bring the man's hands up her belly, and then closed her eyes softly, enjoying the euphoria of control.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Joker leveled a gun at her. He let off a shot, without aiming, just pointed in her general direction. She screamed, fearing for the worst. Apparently his tolerance for her promiscuity had been very low. But she quickly came to the realization that he hadn't shot her. And had never intended to. The man behind her suddenly became limp, and fell to the floor with a bullet in his forehead.

"That's what you brought one of these for, Har. Now stop screwing around and get over here where you should be!"

Between realizing that the man she'd been flirting with only moments before was dead, and hearing the rage the Joker had leveled at her, Harley quickly snapped out of her little dominatrix game. She walked ashamed and crestfallen to stand submissively beside him and Barbra. He came up to stand behind her, breathing on her neck. He then brought both arms to rest on hers and lifted her hands up until she now held her small gun at shooting level. She trembled slightly as she sensed the anger radiating off of him. She'd upset him, a mistake she'd be sure not to make in the future.

"Now, you know how to use one of these?"

"No, I've never…"

"Of course you haven't. But you'll use one tonight"

Harley looked around the room. The henchmen were no longer really paying attention-some had taken out playing cards, others stood in small groups smoking. Joker moved her arms more, bending her elbows slightly and making sure her shoulders were firm.

"So, first you get a little practice"

He then made her aim the gun at yet another henchman. Harley could see the sweat break out across the man's brow-he was one of those in makeup, and it started to bead down his face.

"I-I can't"

"Why not?"

"He hasn't done anything"

"Ah. So, your conscience is still there. Fine, we can work around that"

Joker then redirected her aim to the dead man, the one that Harley had been toying with.

"Shoot him then, he's already dead"

She swallowed nervously, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. As the sound erupted, she felt Joker's hands slide down from her arms and encircle her waist. He leaned in closer to her, she could her the sound as he again licked his lips. Harley couldn't tell if it was just a habit, or out of necessity from the scars.

She lowered the gun, shaking a little. She finally opened her eyes, and saw that now there were two henchmen on the ground. Harley felt Joker smile at her ear,

"You missed. Go finish it"

"I, no, maybe we should take him to a hospital?"

Several of the men standing around chuckled. Poor Barbra seemed to be reciting a litany or Bible phrase to comfort herself, and rocked gently back and forth in the chair. Joker stood back from Harley, and shook his head in disappointment.

"Now, Har, do you really think taking him to the hospital, a public hospital, with records and cameras, would be a good idea?"

She looked down, realizing her error. But she couldn't kill a man-not one that had done nothing to her.

"Of course not, of course not. So, that leaves us with two options. Let him suffer and slowly bleed to death. Or, put him out of his misery. Which is it gonna be, sweetheart?"

He then looked at her, motioning his arm towards the man bleeding on the ground and gave her an expectant look. She just shook her head,

"I'm sorry…"

She felt tears start to well up again. This wasn't at all what she'd had in mind for tonight. There wasn't dancing, or cheap party food, or even beer. She wanted to go home. But that part of her that craved the excitement, the part that had led her all these past weeks into the Joker's arms, kept her there.

He then sighed, seeing the tears, and walked towards her. Once he stood in front of her, she realized that he held his arms aloft, like he was ready to waltz.

"May I have this dance?"

Cocking her head in confusion, Harley could only accommodate. Joker then shouted to the DJ,

"Something with a little more class"

Harley didn't know much about waltz, but apparently her partner did. He led her in several turns and fox-trot like steps. Then, they were dancing around the dying man. Harley could feel the warm moisture of his blood penetrating the thin fabric that covered her feet. Joker leaned in close to her, so his lips were right next to her ear lobe,

"We'll do it together"

Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, slowly massaging her lips until she parted them ever so slightly. They'd stopped dancing now, and she brought her freed hand up behind his head, gripping his hair softly. She felt all of her fears and stress drain away as his kiss melted her. She felt his hand run down her other arm, towards the gun. She knew what he meant to do now, but she didn't care. This was by far the best kiss of her life. As he raised the gun in her hand and aimed it at the dying man, Harley felt a heat bloom in her belly. She didn't know which was arousing her more-his tender kiss, or his violent intentions. As he pushed her finger against the trigger and let the bullet ring free from the gun, Harley pushed her hips against his, not being able to resist the urge to rub herself against him. He then ended the kiss,

"Hmm, not yet, Harley. We have work to do first. Then pleasure"

In reality, Joker had no intentions of letting his physical fantasy happen until he knew that Harley Quinn was no more. He would have to see her kill, in cold blood, on her own before she could truly be his partner in crime and passion. Then, and only then, when her former self was completely demolished in that act, would she become Harlequin, one and only trusted accomplice to the Joker.

He led her back to Barbra, who now seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Once they were standing beside the red-head, Joker gave his final instructions to Harley. He held up both hands, with the fingers up for counting off,

"Now, this is a 10-chamber handgun. You've shot three times already, which means you've got seven left. If the Bat comes at you, just point in his general direction and shoot. Keep shooting until there aren't any more bullets"

"But, won't I kill him?"

Again, several men laughed, Joker just smiled,

"If you do, I'll be very proud. But the Bat's got body armor or something. You should at least slow him down, give yourself enough time to get out of there, or the boys to get the tracker on"

Joker then simply walked away, arms crossed behind his back to stand in front of something Harley hadn't noticed earlier. It looked like a huge spot light, like the ones used in the theatre, but much, much bigger. Leading off to one of the walls was a gigantic extension cord. Joker picked up a cable coming from the light, and one end of the extension cord, then turned to his audience,

"It's show time"

He then connected the two cables. As he did, the huge light sputtered, came on, then winked back out. Joker looked around the room, sighed, and kicked the light. Suddenly, it burst back on. Now, Harley could see that the warehouse they were in was very dilapidated-the section of roof over the light had crumbled away, so that the spotlight was able to shine onto the smog clouds overhead. Harley stared up-it was the Batlight! She'd heard that Commissioner Gordon had had it destroyed, after news that Batman was responsible for Harvey Dent's death had gotten out. Joker must have stolen and fixed it up. Harley couldn't help but admire Joker's genius-what a great way to lure the Bat to them! With news that Barbra Gordon was missing, and now his own personal signal being used once again, Batman was sure to come. Harley felt a shiver-she'd only read the stories in the paper, and seen a little poor footage on TV. Very few people met Batman. And tonight, she might have to shoot him.


	11. Chapter 11

She was able to recognize that wickedness there-he was a hero still to most people in Gotham, maybe even herself. But at the same time, she knew that to be with Joker, she would have to follow through. Would she be able to go back to her normal life after this? Of course not-already tonight, she'd been the cause of two men's deaths. She was aiding and abiding in the kidnap of the Commissioner's daughter. And she was falling madly in love with Gotham's most dangerous criminal. No, she could never go back to being Harley Quinn, theatre major, Gotham School of Fine Arts.

Harley hadn't seen where Joker had gone; he must still be in the building. Assuming he was preparing for the Bat's arrival, she let her thoughts wander relentlessly as they all waited for the guest of honor to arrive. Looking over the spotlight reminded Harley of her theatre dreams. A part of heart broke at the realization that she'd probably never end up pursuing her career on Broadway. She looked down at Barbra then, wondering what the dreams of the ambitious red-head were.

"He's gonna ruin your hopes someday, too, ya know. You've got all these plans for the future, but once he's got it in his head what he wants to do with ya, you can forget everything you'd ever dreamt of"

Harley smirked to herself, if this girl wasn't the Commissioner's daughter, she'd be safe at home right now. Funny how fate works. But then again, there was probably nothing that could have saved Harley from where she was headed now. She felt in the deepest part of herself that this was her destiny-she'd been working towards this all her life. She just hadn't known it till now. Suddenly, Barbra spoke,

"Nobody can take away your dreams. Even if they never happen, they're still there in your head"

She turned her blindfolded face towards Harley then. Harley could feel the weight of the other girl's eyes on her.

"You just have to change your plans according to the circumstances. Everything in life is a variable. Just remember- not even that _madman_ can take away your spirit. That will always be yours"

Harley was speechless. Here this girl was, utterly hopeless, even if she got away tonight; Joker had just said he had plans to ruin her in the future. There was no way to escape that, or prepare for it. And still, she had hope.

"You got a lot of scrap, kid. Dunno if its gonna do you any good, but at least you've still got that"

Twenty minutes later, everyone seemed to perk their ears as the purr of a powerful sounding car came closer to the building. Her heart beat increased when Barbra whispered,

"That's him-that's his car. I've heard it before"

Harley felt a little bit of disappointment-Batman drove a car? She'd always thought he flew or…she realized how little sense that would make. He was still a man, after all. All the henchmen in the room seemed to be shuffling around, perhaps getting weapons out. Harley couldn't tell, her night vision was poor to begin with, the huge spotlight only made it worse. She heard the car engine stop, a door open and then slam shut. A painful hush fell over the room. Even Barbra was silent, which was somewhat unexpected. Harley had been watching the entrance, expecting him to come in there. But then she heard the soft 'pows' of a scuffle, then the more defined sound of bones breaking. Of course he hadn't used the door. Harley raised the gun nervously, pointing it in what sounded like the right direction. Her heart was now racing, like she'd just finished doing a routine on the uneven bars.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes, Harley saw the Joker,

"Finally, he decides to intervene!"

But there was something weird-he was wearing something over his mouth-a mask of some kind. Harley narrowed her eyes and looked around. All the henchmen had one, too. It was just her, Barbra and the Bat that were out of the loop. She suddenly became very upset. But then quickly alarmed as she realized that there was a gas being released into the room. Harley tried to pull the neck of her costume up to cover her mouth, but she knew it was useless. Why hadn't Joker let her in on this? She heard a man coughing,

"Must be the Bat", she thought, and adjusted the aim of the gun. Maybe if this gas was good enough, she wouldn't have to shoot at all. The gas had now reached where she and Barbra were; poor Red was coughing, trying to not breathe it. The fabric of Harley's costume helped, but she could taste the acrid flavor. Harley could still hear Batman putting up a good fight against the clowns, and he was getting closer all the time. Half a minute later and Barbra was completely unconscious. Harley was starting to feel the effects of the gas. Her eyes weren't tracking, and she felt very sleepy. She smiled at the realization that it was a lot like being drunk. How had the Joker expected her to 'defend' Miss Gordon with all this sleeping gas going around, and no mask? Harley tried to stabilize herself with one hand on the chair that Barbra was in, but it didn't help. Another minute, and she'd be out, too.

Just then, Joker walked out of the crowd, with a small black device clutched in one hand. Harley tried to get his attention, but it was no use. He had a clear intent now.

"Mistah J, I don't think I can stay awake…"

Harley collapsed to the floor, but remained conscious just long enough to see Joker succeed in attaching his tracking device to Batman. After that, she blacked out.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Joker smiled gleefully as Batman turned to face him,

"Looking for me?"

He ducked as the hero aimed a punch at his face,

"Or maybe it's the girl you're after?"

He stepped back, and pulled a henchmen in front of him to block a Batarang. The man screamed in pain as the metal cut into his viscera.

"Why did you want me to come here, Joker?"

The villain tingled with joy at hearing the hero's voice. There was no better feeling in the world than to have a well-matched enemy.

"To take the Miss Gordon home, of course. Reliable chauffeurs are so hard to come by in this town. She's been a lot of fun tonight, but I think we're done with her now. She's just right over there, why don't you go and save her?"

He continued to duck and use the clowns as shields as the Bat aimed blows at him.

Joker didn't yet know that Harley had already passed out-that had been his eventual plan, but things were taking longer than expected. The gas wasn't supposed to reach where she and Barbra were set up until after the Bat had been tagged. He was still expecting Harley to be awake and able to get out of the way, maybe get in a couple of shots. Joker's plan had been to force Batman to choose between saving Miss Gordon, or pursuing Gotham's favorite villain. Of course the Dark Knight would choose to save the girl; it was just a matter of convincing him that that was indeed the favored course of action.

"Ya know, this gas is sort of toxic. The longer little Red breathes it, the more of her precious little brain is lost"

The Bat seemed to be caught by that. He'd snagged a gas-mask off of one of the henchmen for himself, but the girl had nothing to protect her. He looked over to where the Joker had earlier gestured. Barbra Gordon was tied to a chair, blindfolded, and hunched over. She was already unconscious from the gas. Joker looked over too, expecting Harley to start firing at any moment-the Bat was in clear shot, even she couldn't miss. But he felt a panic as he saw his precious Harlequin sprawled out on the floor, the gun mere inches from her fingertips. It was then that he realized the danger she was in. He quickly darted a gaze at Batman to check if he'd seen the costumed woman on the floor. But luckily, the hero seemed intent only on getting Barbra out of there. He'd started walking over towards her. Suddenly, Joker was torn. He didn't know if the Bat would see Harley, and if he did see her, what would the hero do? But Joker also couldn't afford to save her. He wasn't prepared to deal with any more run-ins with Batman tonight-he'd accomplished his plan. Joker didn't like errors in his masterpieces-he was used to things going off perfectly. If it had been anyone else, he would have walked away. But the Joker had put so much work into perfecting Harlequin for his own purposes that to abandon her would be a waste. Also, he'd started to become attached to the little tramp.

Now, the Bat was cutting the ropes that held Miss Gordon to the chair. Joker licked his lips nervously as the last cord sprung free and Batman hefted the tiny red-head over one shoulder. The hero started to turn to leave when his eyes landed on Harley. Without thinking, he went over to her.

Joker felt like a Rottweiler on the end of its chain as Batman rolled Harlequin over onto her back. He looked at her face for a moment, and then started to pick her up as well.

Joker couldn't let that happen-the Bat would reverse all of his hard work on that girl's mental state if he took her-she'd be lost forever to Joker. He took out the gun from his jacket pocket and started firing at the Bat. It was enough to startle the hero into dropping Harley back to the ground.

"You've got the one you came for, that one's mine!"

He let off another shot. This one landed flat on Batman's chest, dangerously close to Barbra. Batman seemed to analyze the situation quickly, deciding that he didn't know who the other woman was, but she appeared to be in league with the Joker. Rescuing her would not only put him and Miss Gordon in more danger than necessary, it was also likely to prove fruitless. Therefore, he went against his heroic character and left a damsel in a distressful situation.

Joker watched with relief as Batman aimed his grappling hook for the ceiling, and soar flawlessly overhead and into the night. He pantomimed wiping sweat from his brow, and looked around at the carnage. More than half of his crew was dead or severely injured. But what they'd accomplished tonight was more than worth it. He started to make his way over to where the mapping system for the tracker was when a henchman tapped him on the shoulder,

"What about her?"

The man pointed at Harley. Joker looked over-she was sleeping peacefully. There were strands of loose, blond hair across her face. He smiled at how beautiful she was. He knew someone would have to take her back to her little dorm. She wasn't quite ready to join him just yet. One more test.

"You get to take her back to the Gotham University campus, dorm building Cyrano, room number 305. Here's a key card to get into the building, and the room's never locked. Her bed is on the left side. Use some of the gas to keep her roommate from waking up"

The man looked confounded as he tried to commit all of that to memory. He then looked up at the Joker,

"Is that all, Boss?"

Joker pulled an envelope out from his inner jacket,

"And place this beneath her pillow"

He then nodded to the man, and continued towards the computer with the mapping system. He was eager to see where the Bat was headed.


	12. Chapter 12

Harley woke up the next morning, still in her costume from the night before, but safe and sound in her own bed. Clarissa had left a very naughty stick-figure doodle on their white board, and a message of "Bow-chica-bow-wow!"

Harley lied in the bed a moment longer, rubbing her forehead to try and get rid of the headache that had started to pound on her temples. It felt like the worst hangover of her life. Her face felt pasty; she grimaced when she realized this was probably due to all of the make-up she'd left on overnight,

"And now I'm going to have the worst break-out of my life since senior prom"

A little nagging part of her brain tried to make her think over what had happened the night before, but she ignored it. To think on that would make her realize how quickly her life was falling apart. Instead, she grumpily rolled out of bed. In the process, her pillow had fallen to the ground. Harley sighed in frustration as she bent to pick it up, but her mood quickly changed upon seeing the envelope.

In flawless cursive script was her name. She turned the envelope over, tore open the seal, and read the contents. In a shaky hand, the Joker had explicitly explained his final instructions for Harley Quinn. She read it through once again to make sure of everything, and then destroyed the letter. As she tore the paper into tiny scraps of paper, placed these in the trash can and lit this on fire, she thought over how tonight-opening night-would change everything. Joker's letter had put everything in to perspective for her. Now she could see that the aspirations of her drab life weren't worth pursuing. He had described a higher purpose for her, but one that she would have to work for.

She was so consumed by her thoughts, that she almost forgot to hold the metal trash bin outside the window, to prevent the smoke from setting off the fire alarm. When the last bit of paper was incinerated, Harley brought the trash can back into the room. She stared at her reflection in the mirror; she saw a stranger staring back. The eyes were wide, but not with fear-with anticipation. Her lips were dry and cracked, the last of the lipstick just clinging to the flesh. Her hair was askew and tangled, barely being held by the rubber band. The costume she wore, however, still looked flawless.

"That's how tonight will go-perfectly. Exactly according to plan"

Harley looked into the eyes of Harlequin in the mirror, and trembled. Her life would end tonight, and that of the reflection would begin.

Harley skipped all her classes that day-this was actually somewhat expected for the entire cast and crew of the show. All the professors knew that a show like _Macbeth_ required plenty of preparation, and so they didn't fret when their theatre major students didn't appear in class that day. Most of these students spent the day fretfully rehearsing lines or cue orders, or rushing about madly. Harley had always hated the drama that lead up to an opening night-too much stress, and all for nothing. Instead, she chose to spend the day tying up loose ends. She caught a bus back to her father's house. He wasn't there, pity, she had so much to tell him. But all the same, she went into her old bedroom, and destroyed every remaining semblance of who she'd once been. Gymnastics medals, old costume and scene design sketches, her scrap book from high school, pictures of Redgie and her at the skating rink. She ripped, burned, tore and trampled. At the end of her rampage, it looked as though a tornado had torn through. She then went to her little, rickety nightstand and opened the top drawer. Inside was a deck of cards that she and her friends had spent many a sleep over playing Indian Poker and Crazy Eights with. She went through the deck, pulling out the King of Spades, Queen of Diamonds, Jack of Clubs and the black Joker. She burned the rest on the carpet. But these four, she guarded away in her pocket.

She then left the house, leaving the front door wide open. People stared at her as she walked to the bus stop. She had changed out of the costume and washed away the make-up, but she carried her self differently, strangely. Her insanity was like a beacon to the people of Gotham-they were too accustomed to maniacs to let one pass by unnoticed. But no one approached her.

Harley made one last trip to her dorm room, grabbing the costume and stealing some of Clarissa's costume make-up. Satisfied that she would need nothing else, Harley left the room and headed over to the theatre building. It was only four in the afternoon, but she still had plenty of work to do before the curtain rose.

At a quarter to seven, people started to fill in the house. Harley helped the actors get into their costumes, pinning this dress and ironing that piece of ruff, but she was not at all focused on the task at hand. But since Harley did her job, none of the actors complained, except of course for the infamous Alison Bates.

"Hello, earth to Harley Quinn? Are you even listening to me? This dress is too big! I thought I told you not to let it out any more"

Harley looked into Alison's face, then down at the other woman's waist. She was right-the dress was too big. But how was that possible? Unless Ms. Bates has decided to terminate her unplanned pregnancy.

"All the better",

thought Harley, "Means nobody _innocent_ will die tonight"

"Can't you bring it in or something? Everyone's gonna see all this loose fabric and think, what a terrible costume manager they must have"

Harley glared, but was relaxed as she reminded herself of how tonight would end.

"It's too late to take in the fabric, but I can pin it"

Alison sighed in an annoyed fashion,

"Fine, whatever"

At seven twenty, the ushers closed the entrance doors to the house. Five minutes later, the lights went down. The curtain rose. Harley watched all of act one from the ceiling loft. Banquo muffed a couple of his lines and Lady Macbeth said everything with a nasal accent, but other than that, the show went on flawlessly. The whole time, Harley kept track of exactly where everyone was-Alison was either on the stage, or feverishly complaining to the other female cast and crew in the women's dressing room, Redgie was rushing around back stage keeping on all the techs on their cues, and Peter Quinn sat in the third row of the house. Harley waited patiently for act two. She knew the Joker would be watching her the whole time, making sure she went through with all she had to. It was a blind determination that kept her on her course. The same that had brought her this far into madness, and would bring her promptly to its gate. At the end of tonight, she would be like a whore's new born babe, left at the front gate of a church in a basket. She could only hope that someone would come outside and let her in before she died in the night's cold. And that _that_ someone would be the man she was dangerously obsessed with.


	13. Chapter 13

It was already the fourth act by the time Harley started to feel the beginnings of anticipation. She watched Hecate and the witches chant and torture Macbeth. Her thoughts became confused and muffled as she mulled over how very like the Thane of Cawdor she had been; content in her drawl life. But at the whisper of a mysterious visitor, someone that seemed to promise her more than she had ever dreamed, she began to fall. Kidnapping, killing and now plotting murder. No; murders. At the end of fourth act, she slipped down from the ceiling loft and into the women's dressing room.

There, she found Alison alone and struggling to get the gown on over the harness. Foolishly, she had insisted on not wearing the costume itself for practicing her suicide scene; because of this, she was only now discovering that the harness designed to keep her from actually dying when she jumped from the castle wall wouldn't fit under the gown Harley had made.

"Oh my god, where have you been? What am I supposed to do? Your stupid dress is too small for this harness! And I'm supposed to be on in 15 minutes"

Harley stared indifferently at the actress. Everything had suddenly clicked into place. Yes, she would be able to do what the Joker had instructed her to do, and not get too much blood on her hands.

"You don't need the harness-we can place the fall pads underneath you. It'll be more realistic that way

"You mean like in the first rehearsals?"

Harley thought for a moment before answering,

"Yes, just like in rehearsal"

"Ok, fine. Just make sure the techs know-I don't want to fall on the ground"

"Of course-that would be horrible"

Alison stared at Harley strangely before shaking herself, and taking off the dress and harness, then redonning the gown. Both girls turned towards the door as a tech in black peered in,

"Your cue's in five, Alison"

"I know that"

The tech ducked back out. Harley was surprised that they actually had personal cues-usually they just setup the two way radio. But then she looked over at Alison's desk-her radio was unplugged, with her ipod charging from that socket instead.

"Are you going to plug in your cue radio?"

"Are you gonna go set up the padding?"

Harley stared blankly for a moment-it wasn't her job to set up the pads-that was tech's work. But then again, if an actual tech did it, they'd set it up correctly. Which wasn't at all what Harley wanted. Alison rolled her eyes with annoyance,

"Oh, and extra pillows would be nice. My left arm got a little bruised in the last rehearsal"

"Right, oh, and Alison?"

"What?"

"Break a leg"

Harley winked at her, and with that walked out.

She didn't tell the tech crew about the change in plans. Redgie was tech leader, and would undoubtedly not allow Alison to fall without a harness. In all truth, what she'd told Alison would be perfectly safe. But certain variables would make it highly un-recommended. Harley planned on exploiting all those variables to their furthest degree of disaster. So, she quickly went to work setting up the pads and pillows. Normally, an old box king-size box spring was placed in the center. The whole thing was topped off with a glowing, neon X that only the actor directly above could see. Harley set up the gymnast pads, and the pillows, but not on top of the mattress. Instead, she rigged a sheet stretched across four chairs and carefully placed a few pillows and the glowing X on top. Alison would fall right through the sheet, and onto the floor.

She stepped back and looked at her handiwork. It looked exactly like the regular set up, the sheet was even the same stained, off-white as the mattress. Part of Harley told her that this probably enough, the Joker didn't really expect Harley to kill in cold blood. But the rest of her said this set up was clever, but wouldn't do the job. Alison would most likely survive the fall.

Just then, Harley heard the Siward give his last line before scene five;

"The time approaches  
That will with due decision make us know  
What we shall say we have and what we owe.  
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,  
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:  
Towards which advance the war"

Harley felt panic grip her; techs and actors would soon be swarming the spot, but the trap still wasn't set. She heard a board creak, then she had it,

"Of course! All these boards are removable for the trap doors"

She quickly darted under the sheet, pulled out the four floor boards beneath the sheet and crawled back out. As she brushed the dust off her knees, Redgie walked over,

"What's going on?"

Thinking quickly, Harley provided an answer,

"Alison just wanted some extra precautions. So, I set up the fall pads for her. Is that okay?"

"Well, yeah, of course, but why didn't you just have the techs do it? You should be up there with her, hooking up that harness"

Harley repressed an eyebrow twitch when he told her how to do her job, but simply replied,

"I didn't want to bug you guys-you're all so busy. Besides, I've already got her all set up with the harness"

He sighed, seeming satisfied with her story.

"Alright. But don't worry about breaking it down-I'll have my crew take care of that. You should be back in the dressing rooms after this scene, helping Macbeth and Young Siward with their blood packs"

"Of course"

Harley turned and left then. It was all she could do to control her anger. How could she have ever thought so much of Redgie, much less love him? He was such a pompous little prick, with 'his crew' and telling her what she ought to be doing. Just like he'd been telling her how to live her life for the last year. As Harley returned to her spot in the loft, she checked the handgun again. It still had three bullets.

The next thirty-seven minutes were the most surreal thing Harley had ever experienced, but at the same time, life had never felt more solid, more tangible.


	14. Chapter 14

_One for the money…_

Act five, scene five started. Harley watched in disbelief as Alison fearlessly approached the edge of the castle wall, then threw herself down. Her realistic screams tore through the theatre. The anticipation still clung to Harley, even after the scene. She crossed the beams to where she stood over the ghastly scene below. Or so she thought. Instead, she saw Redgie helping Alison up out of the pile of pillows.

Somehow, Harley restrained herself from audibly shouting her anger-Alison should be dead, or at least wheel-chair bound for the rest of her life. What had happened?

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Joker stood at the very back of the house, watching the show go on. Harley had almost lost her chance-she had to actually murder tonight for him to trust that she was obedient enough for him to trust her. Setting up a death trap, while impressive and resourceful, wouldn't cut it. Luckily, he'd been backstage, disguised as a cast member, so well, that Harley didn't even notice him. He'd made sure that the tech crew had seen the shotty set-up for Alison, and that they fixed it.

He could almost see the confusion and anger on Harley's face,

"Good", he thought,

"That will help fuel the fire"

Part of him recognized the hypocrisy in making sure Harley did was she _should_ do on her own-he ought to let her do it her way, and if she failed, well, then, she failed. But he so very much wanted her to prevail, to bury her old life and destroy her old self. So she would become the partner he desperately needed. Henchmen were reliable enough, but he went through them so quickly. He needed a companion.

The Joker watched the end of scene five of act five end and smoothly fade into scene six.

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In the darkest corner backstage, Harley Quinn stood in a blood-red rage. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and she felt heat repeatedly blossom and spread out from her neck. She had less than a half hour before everyone in the building would file out, and her chance to join Joker would be lost forever. To help release some of her anger, she repeatedly opened the cylinder with the three bullets, spun it, closed it and cocked back the hammer. In the dressing room to her left, Alison would be carelessly touching up her makeup for the final bow. To her right, Redgie stood arguing with some of 'his crew' about what had happened with the whole landing set-up. Harley felt some relief that they hadn't yet approached her about it. And almost directly in front of her, but much further than the rest, sat her father. The man that had set her off on this broken existence called life. She slammed the cylinder shut one last time, shoved the hammer back and walked boldly to her left. She reached the door, and went to open it when something occurred to her. If she shot Alison now, everyone would hear the gun go off and come running. She felt another wave of frustration wash over her. She set the safety again, hid the gun away in her jeans and walked in anyways.

Alison stood in front of the long mirror that stretched across one wall of the room. As Harley had suspected, the beautiful blond was applying even more powder to her already incredibly flawless face. Harley couldn't help but notice that several of the fluorescent bulbs were out, and one to the right of Alison was flickering. She also saw that the Alison had finally plugged the cue radio back in. Which meant nobody would be coming in to tell her when she needed to be onstage-nobody would be interrupting them.

"Oh my god, finally you're here! Did you know that those stupid techs had the landing pad set-up wrong? I could have died! Ugh, and now, one of the laces on these stupid boots has broken. I get that you wanted the authentic vintage look, but seriously, you couldn't put in new laces?"

During her entire rant, Alison had continued to fix up her makeup, adding more eyeliner and blush. Up close, she looked like a cheap French whore from the circus. But Harley knew that from the audience's perspective, the ridiculous face paint would just make her face look like a face, instead of being obscured by the poor lighting.

When Harley didn't say anything, Alison started talking again,

"So, are you gonna get another shoelace or something? I can go barefoot, nobody will notice, but you are the costume design director or whatever"

Suddenly, Harley felt as though a light bulb had turned on over her head,

"We can just use one of the laces from your regular shoes"

"Okay, fine, whatever, just do it quickly, curtain call is in two minutes"

Harley walked over to Alison's shoes, sitting innocently on the floor. The pink Skecher's had white laces, miraculously clean. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she quickly pulled the lace out of the sockets of one of the shoes. When she finished, she stood and walked over to stand behind Alison. The other girl didn't even look up from curling her eyelashes.

"Can you just lace it up while it's still on my foot? These things are such a pain to take off-"

She was cut short as Harley quickly threw the shoe lace around her neck, and pulled it tight. At first, Alison was confused, but soon realized what was happening. She dropped her eyelash curler, the metal clanging loudly in the otherwise silent room, and started to try to pull the string off of her neck. She started making raw choking noses, her face turning red than the slightest shade of blue started to appear near her eyes. Her mascara started to run as tears of fear and pain welled up and flowed down her cheeks.

When she discovered she wasn't able to pull the string off of her neck, she tried to turn around to claw at Harley. But Harley was quick, she was in a higher plane of existence now-that of a killer. Her instincts, laid down thousands of generations beforehand, suddenly came to life, telling her what to do. When Alison started to gain ground on freeing herself, Harley pushed the beautiful blonde's head into the glass mirror. Instantly, it shattered where the impact occurred, shards splashing and shining the light all around. Again and again, Harley slammed Alison's head into the mirror, blood started to flow and the sound of bone cracking could be heard over the thudding. Finally, Harley stopped and looked into the mirror. Alison was definitely dead-part of her skull was visible, and a huge crack ran across it. Harley then lifted her eyes to look at herself. It was then that she realized she was smiling. She suddenly felt excited, exhilarated. A shiver ran down her spine, and she lifted her hands from the dead girl's neck.

Suddenly, a voice crackled over a speaker,

"Alison, we need you out here for curtain call in two minutes"

Harley was still thinking quickly, and knew that when Alison didn't show up onstage in two minutes, people would come looking for her. Unless Harley gave them reason to think that Alison wasn't to be found. With fluidity and speed, Harley stripped the dead girl and donned the gown. She put her hair into a half ponytail, letting the back part spill over her shoulders. She picked up the gun from her own pile of clothes on the ground, and hid it away in her bosom. She was about to walk away when she remembered something. Leaning back down to her clothes, she reached into the backpocket of her jeans and pulled out the four playing cards. She quickly went through them and found the Queen of Diamonds. She brought the card to her lips, kissed it and then placed it in between Alison's still warm fingers. Harley placed the remaining three cards next to the gun inside the dress, then turned to leave the room. Tonight all of her wishes would come true-she'd destroy the witch, the wicked prince and the evil king, wear her beautiful gown and disappear with the man of dreams-and the townspeople's nightmares. With this thought, she clicked off the light to the women's dressing room, locked the door and slowly closed it.


	15. Chapter 15

_Two for the show…_

Moments later, she was standing between Macbeth and Duncan, waiting for the curtain to rise. Someone whispered,

"Where's Alison?"

Harley whispered back,

"She had to go, something about a stomach ache"

"Then where's the understudy?"

"There never was one"

In truth, Alison had refused to have an understudy assigned to her, saying it was an insult to her credibility. Surprisingly enough, up until now, the leading lady had never needed one. Unfortunately, she hadn't considered her death when she turned away a substitute. Pity.

The curtain rose just then, and Harley was momentarily stunned by the lights. But the two men on each side of her held one of her hands, and she was able to bow with everyone else. She smiled widely as the audience cheered and clapped. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see her father. Peter Quinn barely clapped, and was one of the last to get out of his seat for the standing ovation. But then he saw his daughter on stage; suddenly he gained more enthusiasm,

"Too little too late, Daddy" thought Harley.

The curtain lowered then, and the actors headed backstage to take off their costumes and makeup. Harley reveled for a moment in the center of the stage. Just then, Redgie came up towards her. She tried to appear as innocent as possible. But by the look on his face, Harley could see that Redgie knew something was up.

"Why did you set up the landing pad that way? Alison could have been killed!"

Harley smiled ever so slightly at the irony of what he said.

"Unless that's what you meant-were you trying to murder her, Harley?"

"No, of course not! And besides, technically, that would have been manslaughter, Redge"

"Are you serious?! Is that what you meant to happen? Why?!"

"Oh, no! I couldn't do that. Well, I mean, at first, that's what I wanted, but really, that wouldn't have worked anyways, would it? No-it had to be the real thing"

"What are you talking about? And what do you mean 'had'?"

Harley sighed, and made a tsk tsk noise,

"Oh, Redgie. So much to learn. But I can help, follow me, I've got something to show you"

Harley momentarily panicked when he didn't immediately follow her, but he seemed to lose a battle of reasoning, and came jogging after her.

Harley knew she still couldn't use the gun-she'd save that for Daddy, and then disappear into the night with the Joker. So, she led Redgie to the set-construction room.

"Harley, I've been here before, a thousand times. What could you possibly have to show me?"

Harley reached around on the workbench behind her. The lights in the room weren't on, but some light dimly showed in. Fortunately, it wasn't enough for Redgie to see what she was doing.

"Just wait-you'll like it"

She said this with just a hint of seduction-she knew from their relationship that Redgie was a sucker for dirty talk. And this was no exception-

"Oh really? I thought you hated me"

He answered her with his own tone of sexiness, his voice low and rough. Harley felt shivers start all over again. Part of it was from the nostalgia of her various sexual activities with Redgie, and part was from what she was about to do.

She could see his outline as he started to walk towards her. Just as he reached in front of her, Harley's hand finally landed on what she'd been searching for. Redgie never saw the hammer coming as it slammed into his temple, instantly killing him. As his dead body slumped to the ground, she took out the cards and found the Jack of Clubs. She then crouched down and placed the card between Redgie's lips. As she stood up, she saw a figure appear in the doorway. Harley prepared to make another attack.


	16. Chapter 16

_Three to get ready…_

"Well, that was a little anti-climatic, no?"

She dropped the bloodied hammer to the ground as she heard the familiar voice,

"Mister J! What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in on my number one girl"

"Yeah, and whaddaya think of my handiwork so far?"

Joker walked into the room, and leaned over to pick up the hammer.

"I like your-constructive work"

They both smiled at the pun. Harley realized then that she was still ever so slightly aroused from her word-play with Redgie. She coyly stepped closer to Joker, closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

"Yeah? So do I get a gold star already, or maybe something else?"

She pressed herself against him. Joker couldn't deny his feelings-he wanted her. He'd seen her kill, and knew that he could trust her to follow his every order. But she still had one thing left to do.

"Two out of three ain't half bad, Har, but you need to finish the job"

He stepped back, and held out the hammer for her. She looked at it glumly, then back at him. She pulled the gun out of her dress then,

"That's what I got this for-grand finale"

He nodded, and pocketed the hammer. It might come in useful later.

"Well then, you'd better do that before it's too late. Your carriage will be turning into a pumpkin any minute now"

"Alright, Mister J, but you'd better be there to take me away to my castle"

She walked out of the room then, and turned to blow a kiss before leaving. Joker mimed catching it, then when she turned her back, he crushed it in his palm.

Harley walked out to the parking lot, rolling the cylinder, slamming it shut and cocking the hammer one last time. There was just one car left-her father's. He stood outside of the old Volkswagen, leaning against the hood and mumbling at something in his hand. As Harley got closer, she moved her arms to link her hand behind her back and hide the gun.

"Watcha doing, Daddy?"

He looked up then, a look of anger, but he quickly masked it with a fake smile.

"There's my girl! Been trying to call you on your cell for the last ten minutes. I wanted to talk to you about the break-in at the house today"

He held up his hand to show her his cell, the luminescent light shined into Harley's face. Instinctively, she brought a hand out to shield her eyes. But at the last second, she realized it was the hand holding the gun. It was too late-Peter Quinn's eyes rested on the weapon.

"Wha-what's that for, sweetie?"

"Oh this?"

She held it aloft,

"It's just a prop, we were playing backstage after the show. Ya know, like when I was a kid, we'd play cops and robbers?"

Some of his fear seemed to dissipate, but he still seemed wary.

"Oh yeah, but aren't you a little old for that?"

"Of course not! We should play now"

She held the gun aloft, and mimed shooting it, making 'bam, bam' noises with every 'shot'. She used her other hand to hold up the skirt of the gown, and started to jog around, firing 'shots' at him from over her shoulder. He quickly joined in, caught up in the guilt of how cruel he'd been to his only daughter over the years. He put his hands together and made a 'gun', and started to return fire.

Harley then squeezed the trigger for real, letting the heated rage from all the anger in her life flow from her heart out to her fingertips. But nothing happened. She was caught off guard, but only for a moment-there were only three bullets, and this was a ten-chamber gun. She started to just start pulling back on the trigger, over and over again, until finally a shot erupted from the chamber. Peter Quinn stopped playing then, and looked at his daughter. He furrowed his eyebrows and dropped his hands from his 'gun'.

"Harley? What's going on?"

The shot had missed-and she had only two more chances. She leveled the gun again, pointed it directly at his chest and fired. Peter Quinn stepped back, and brought a hand up to his chest. As he pulled it away, and looked his palm, he saw blood. She'd shot him-his own daughter.

"Harley-why, why are you doing this?"

He started to walk towards her, then stumbled and fell to his knees. She let one hand fall back to her dress, and held up the skirts so she could walk up to him. When she stood directly in front of him, she crouched down and looked him straight in the eye,

"You've been a terrible father. But-I have to thank you for helping make me the way I am"

She placed the gun on the ground beside her, and then put her hands gingerly on his cheeks, pulled his head slightly down, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Then, she leaned to his left and placed her mouth just beside his ear,

"I never loved you more than I will after you're gone"

She pulled the last card out, the King of Spades, and pressed it to his forehead. There was so much sweat pouring from his skin that the card stuck in place. Harley stood back up then, picking up the gun. Peter Quinn leaned forward, grasping the sides of her skirts in his hands, the blood from his hand smeared down the lace, staining it,

"Please, Harley, don't do this"

He choked, coughing blood out of his mouth.

She then put the end of the barrel up against his forehead, pressing the end of the barrel against the card; where she'd kissed him only moments before. Then, she cocked the trigger,

"Goodbye, Daddy"

And fired.


End file.
